


Bossyboots

by t34lbloods (perculious)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dom/sub Play, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-24 23:30:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perculious/pseuds/t34lbloods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirk’s been feeling his pulse in his temples for hours, ever since they agreed that they were going to do this, and the look on Jake’s face harmonizes beautifully with the apprehension squeezing Dirk’s chest. But he’s wanted this, and they’ve been talking about it for weeks, and what kind of badass motherfucker would he be if he couldn’t go through with it? So he just says: “You ready?”</p><p>“I was born ready,” Jake says, so quickly that Dirk’s not totally sure he even heard the question before spitting out the most cinematic response he could muster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bossyboots

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Puppeteer (Cendree)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cendree/gifts).



> dedicated to my wonderful gf. also heavily influenced by a bunch of conversations about Dirk/Jake d/s with sxizzor. find me on tumblr at t34lbloods.

“Fuck,” Dirk whispers, staring up at Jake’s glasses-less face. Jake’s kneeling over him, his legs straddling Dirk’s hips. Dirk’s throat spasms, taking in Jake’s wide eyes and the raw panic in the hiked-up set of his shoulders. Dirk’s been feeling his pulse in his temples for hours, ever since they agreed that they were going to do this, and the look on Jake’s face harmonizes beautifully with the apprehension squeezing Dirk’s chest. But he’s wanted this, and they’ve been talking about it for weeks, and what kind of badass motherfucker would he be if he couldn’t go through with it? So he just says: “You ready?”

“I was born ready,” Jake says, so quickly that Dirk’s not totally sure he even heard the question before spitting out the most cinematic response he could muster. But that’s Jake’s problem; Dirk offered him the out, and he didn’t take it. So.

Dirk clears his throat. “Okay,” he says. “Uh. You can go ahead.”

He watches Jake’s adam’s apple bob as he swallows. Jake’s cheeks are flushed, and they haven’t even done anything yet. His shoulders tense up a fraction more, and his eyebrows draw downwards.

“Okay,” he says, his voice self-consciously steady. He puts his hands on Dirk’s shoulders and grips hard. Dirk’s pulse surges, and he blinks slowly, willing himself not to overreact. Jake presses down, pushing Dirk into the carpet, and Dirk feels hot. Yes, yes, fuck yes.

“I,” Jake starts, then thinks better of it. His grip tightens, and he lowers his mouth to Dirk’s throat.

Dirk arches his neck when Jake’s lips make contact. Jake’s touch is soft, almost gentle; he tongues Dirk’s soft skin like he’s afraid of breaking it. Dirk makes a noise in the back of his throat, aiming for “encouraging” over “frustrated.” Maybe Jake’s building up to something. His grip on Dirk’s shoulders is still exhilaratingly strong, and his hips are pinning Dirk’s body.

Jake moves up to press his mouth to Dirk’s jawline, and then lets go of one of Dirk’s shoulders to slide a hand down to Dirk’s stomach, caressing. His fingers are light and questioning on Dirk’s abs, like he’s never even touched them before.

“Jake,” Dirk says. Jake presses down a little more. Dirk exhales. Jake moves his hand around to Dirk’s hip and digs his nails in—the sting sends sparks up the cords of Dirk’s nervous system and he presses his eyes closed, pleased.

“Ummmmmm.” Jake’s voice is uncertain. “Is that okay?”

Dirk opens his eyes, his gaze settling on the ceiling. “Yeah,” he says. “You could, like. Go a little harder.”

“Uh.” Jake digs his nails in a little more. The kick is good, but in his concentration, Jake’s grip on Dirk’s shoulder is weakening. “How about that?”

“Yeah,” Dirk says gruffly. “Come on. Keep going.”

“Hmm.” Jake slides his other hand down, settling on Dirk’s waist. It’s a level of touch that would be acceptable in a crowded public space, for fuck’s sake. “Okay. Do you think it would be alright if I tell you to do something? I mean, is that the manner of assertiveness that yanks your proverbial chain?”

Fuck, this kind of earnestness is exactly what Dirk likes about this kid, but it’s about as welcome here as a toad in a bowl of jellybeans.

“Yeah,” he says. “Do that.”

“Oh shitknickers, I didn’t actually have a thing to tell you. I was just inquiring as to the general appropriateness of the action. Ummmmm.” There’s a pause, then: “Puts on his thinking cap.”

Dirk struggles not to roll his eyes. “For the fiftieth fucking time, Jake, do not tell me actions out loud when we’re talking in person.”

“Strider, sometimes a fellow just doesn’t feel up to recalling all your persnickety little demands,” Jake says. The sting in Dirk’s hip is gone; Jake’s distracted. “You know, you really ought to be the bossyboots in this scenario. Everyone knows your love of exhortative footwear is unparalleled.”

“And I’m fucking telling you that I want you to _dominate_ me,” Dirk says. He grabs both Jake’s hands and puts them back on his shoulders. “Press down again.”

“Oh right. Okay.” Jake presses down. Fuck, his muscles are up for this even if Jake isn’t. Jake’s a little on the scrawny side, but he has upper body strength to spare, and the power coiled in his joints makes Dirk feel weak. “Is that better?”

Dirk does actually growl a little in frustration this time. “Yes. Stop asking.”

Jake huffs out a little breath and says, “How am I supposed to know what you want, then? You’re a gent with exceptionally particular tastes, Strider.”

“You’re not supposed to care what I want,” Dirk says, and he can’t believe they are having this discussion again. “You’re supposed to do what you want, and make me feel like trash.”

“But what I want is to do whatever you want,” Jake says. His grip is weakening again.

Dirk pushes himself up on his elbows. “This isn’t fucking working. Get off.”

“Oh come on,” Jake says, visibly annoyed. “It is too working. I can do it!”

“This ain’t me doubting you just because I think you can’t do it.” Dirk slaps Jake’s hip lightly, and Jake climbs off him, frowning. “This is a conclusion drawn from empirical evidence obtained in the field. You can’t do it.”

“Well fuck you too, then.” Jake crosses his arms over his chest. He’s hurt, okay, so Dirk’ll have to fix that, but come on. That was trying?

“Jake. I told you I want to feel like you’re the one calling the shots. The guy plucking the marionette strings.” He sits up, and crosses his legs in front of him. “Okay, the puppet metaphor is a little played out. Can’t let my material go stale here. Let’s say you’re like the controller, and I’m the little video game dude who runs around and blows people up when you tell me to. Except in this case, instead of blowing people up, I’d be fucking you, and you’d also be causing me a controlled and reasonable amount of pain.”

“Maybe it’s not me that’s muddling up the whole affair,” Jake says, obstinate. “Maybe it’s the fact that you couldn’t spend a ladybug’s blink letting someone else be your video game master or whatever the bumblefuck hooply-hoo you’re on about! You let that experiment business run for about thirty seconds before deciding it was all wrong.”

“It’s not my decision,” Dirk says. “It’s the flesh rapier’s. Dick doesn’t go up, you’re not fucking doing it right.”

“Oh yes, thank you very much for that summary of our romantic entanglement!” Jake clambers to his feet. Even though they didn’t get very far, his fly is down, exposing his clover-leaf boxers, and his glasses have a smudge on the left lense. “Very fucking charming! I’m going to bed.”

“It’s barely half past eight,” Dirk says.  


“Whatever!” Jake says, and storms out.

Dirk flops back on his back on the floor. He was lying, anyway. Jake lying on top of him and putting his mouth on Dirk’s skin is always going to be enough to get him going a little, even if he’s not doing what Dirk wants. Dirk idly cups his crotch with one hand, thinking about the smudge on Jake’s glasses. That’s what he wants: evidence. To end up flushed, bruised and glassy-eyed. And he wants Jake to do it to him, and he doesn’t want to have to fucking guide him every step of the way. This is not paint-by-numbers sex. This is the goddamn Sistine Chapel.

Okay, he obviously fucked up. He put too much pressure on Jake. That’s clear. Should have known better. Let his desires cloud his realistic assessment of the situation at hand. And now Jake’s upset. Jake doesn’t have the temperament for this, obviously. It’s Dirk’s mistake—he should have known. And it’s gotta be his issue to fix.

*

“Are you sure about this,” Jake says. He looks ridiculous.

“Fuck yeah.”

TT: Fuck yeah.

“I can’t see very well without my glasses.” Jake pushes the shades up his nose with his index finger.

“Can you read the text?” Jake nods. “Can you touch me? Great. Congratulations. You’ve passed the compatibility test for sex with your boyfriend 101. Come on, let’s do this.” Jake’s kneeling beside Dirk, and Dirk tries to pull him forward to straddle him, but Jake doesn’t move.

TT: Fuckin’ pushy. You gonna take that, Jake?

“Er.” It’s not as easy as usual to read Jake’s face with the shades blocking his eyes, but the tilt of his mouth looks uncertain. Even when Dirk set up this totally fuckin’ rad fix for him.

“Come on, bro. You don’t even have to think of anything. You just let the robo-dick tell you what to do. With your carbon-dick. He can set the limits.” Dirk nudges Jake again, and this time Jake swings a leg over Dirk’s hips, although his body language is still reticent.

“Maybe I’m being a fussypants, but I can’t help but be a little apprehensive at the thought of a malicious machine setting the limits on how we’re meant to copulate, Dirk.” Jake taps the shades with a fingertip. “No offense meant.”

TT: You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, Jake.

“Also, he says I don’t have to do it.”

TT: Yeah, you gonna let this gel-haired prick dictate the deployment of your junk?  
TT: Not today, man. You gotta stand up for yourself.

“Yeah!” Jake says. Jesus, he can just use Pesterchum, he doesn’t have to talk to the thing aloud.

TT: In fact, I’d say you turn this whole scenario around on him.  
TT: Throw it back in his face like so much day-old bread.  
TT: You gotta teach this kid a lesson. Really fuck his shit up. His shit’s just lying there, on the ground, unfucked.  
TT: I’d say we start with a good spanking and see where that takes us.

“Okay, wait just one fucking sec!” Jake pulls the shades off, and stares at them suspiciously.

“What?” It’s making Dirk’s palms sweat, the thought that they’re talking about him, and he can’t see it or do any damage control while it’s happening. But he wants that, right? He wants to lose a little of his grip. And he can always read the logs later.

“He’s being characteristically wily,” Jake says. “Attempting to sucker me into—” He stops. “Well. Into the very situation that we had already set our sights on, I suppose, if we’re going to be technical about the matter. But I saw through his cybernetic manipulations!”

“So it’s working.”

Jake’s mouth sets into a hard line. “I guess we can give it the old if-at-first et cetera.”

Dirk clenches his hands into fists, the thrill of anticipation working its way all the way up his spine. “Great. Listen, he can—” No. Stop trying to micromanage. Let Jake do it. That’s the point, right? “It’ll be fine. He knows what he’s doing.”

“Fine,” Jake says. “Okay, Mr. Roboto. Do your worst. Um, on Dirk. I guess.”

“You don’t have to talk to it out loud,” Dirk says.

TT: Tell him you’ll do whatever you fuckin’ well please.

“Uh.” Jake swallows, staring into space with an expression on his face that Dirk hopes is not how he looks when he’s talking to AR in the middle of a face-to-face conversation. “I do what I please, Strider.”

He lacks the confidence to make it really ring, but it gets Dirk’s blood pumping anyway, and yeah. This is totally gonna work out.

He closes his eyes preemptively, and in a moment he feels Jake’s hands on him. The touch is a little firmer this time. Jake presses one thumb into the inside of Dirk’s thigh, hard, and settles his other hand tantalizingly on Dirk’s collar. Then he snorts.

Dirk’s eyes flicker open. “What?”

“Nothing.” He leans his face down and bites hard, right on the soft skin of Dirk’s throat. Dirk inhales sharply, startled. Fuck yes, god, it hurts. His whole body comes alive with the pain, nerve signals ricocheting through his veins. One of the points of the shades presses into the soft skin below his chin, and he’s having a hard time catching his breath.

TT: You gotta break him. Like you would a glorious, powerful stallion.  
TT: Oh man, you have no idea the kind of shit Dirk says about horses sometimes.  
TT: Sorry, am I getting off topic? Just one of my many charming and deceptively human personality quirks.  
TT: Tell him what you’re going to do to him.  
TT: Tell him you’re going to hold him down and fuck him. Feel off to the left there and pin down his wrist by his side so he gets the idea.  
TT: Anyway, he wrote this whole weird smutrag about it once. Fuckin’ hilarious, he tried to pass it off as some academic essay, like he’s out there doing a meta-study of horse attraction journals. Compiling all the data on the exact units of desire for a freshly brushed mane and a well-nourished glossy coat.  
TT: When really it was all to get his rocks off. Alone, in his room, talking to a pair of shades.  
TT: I think I have a copy. Ok, that “I think” was just to project a comforting air of human fallibility. Obviously, I have every byte of DS-related info at my digital fingertips at any given nanosecond.  
TT: “The clomp quotient is an often understudied phenomenon. While frequently neglected as a contributing factor to the overall equine experience, experiential data has shown that a weak clomp quotient can noticeably affect the reported affective impact of the equine event when considered as a whole.”

“I’m going to hold you down and fuck you,” Jake says, his voice barely above a whisper. He sounds almost throaty. God, how did AR get him to be so fucking—wait. Jake twists his head, so his face is buried in Dirk’s neck, and slides his hand over to grip Dirk’s wrist tightly. His shoulders give a slight, aborted tremble.

“Are you _laughing_?”

“No,” Jake says, his voice choked. “No, shut up, no. _Stop_.”

“I’m not—”

“Not you!”

Dirk breathes in and out through his nose, his toes curling in discomfort. What the fuck. Jake doesn’t even like the fucking robot. Dirk’s mind flicks through a virtual card catalog of shit he’s said to AR over the years, shit about himself, shit about Jake, fuck, what if he’s—

Jake’s hand wraps around his throat, and Dirk is so caught off-guard he actually whines. Jake’s barely applying any pressure, but just the implication is enough to make Dirk push his hips up towards Jake’s.

“Don’t,” Jake says, slightly breathless. “Don’t. Move your hips. Don’t move. I’ll tell you when you can move.”

Dirk’s initial reaction is an upsurge of resentment—he can’t talk to Dirk like that—but it’s making him feel hot all over, and a little embarrassed in a way that’s just stoking the heat flooding his cheeks, not to mention his nether regions.

“Fuck,” Dirk groans.

TT: Here’s the part where he waxes contemplative about different how horses would adapt to different ecosystems.  
TT: The vagaries of human feelings and opinions are as opaque to me as the changing whims of the tides, but I think you might find this section particularly illuminating.  
TT: That was a joke, by the way. The tidal system is about as complex to someone of my binary cogitation pathways as a child’s wooden blocks.  
TT: “The jungle biome is a uniquely adaptable environment, suitable as a home to a great variation of organisms. This ranges from the characteristic insect activity of the environment to anecdotal evidence of large, white, ’monstrous’ creatures heretofore unclassified.”

“Whoa,” Jake murmurs. He applies a tiny bit of pressure to the fingers flush against Dirk’s windpipe, and Dirk gasps, wanting more. But—

“What?” His voice is hoarse.

“Nothing, sorry,” Jake says. He’s staring into the space left of Dirk’s ear, his mouth hanging half open.

TT: “Almost nothing can be conjectured about the human population of this ecotype, as the observable sample population is of insufficient size. However, this researcher cannot help but speculate on a possible cooperative relationship between the equine creature and the resident of this type of biological sphere.”  
TT: And then he changes the subject.  
TT: Almost like he’s scared to go any further along these lines. Like the thought of you and horses together so completely overwhelmed his mediocre neural pathways that he had to step off for fear he would need to grab his dick with both hands and not be able to write anymore.  
TT: You should hear how he talks about you, dude.  
TT: I wonder if I have any good logs.

Jake’s barely paying attention to Dirk now, his gaze completely locked on the shades. This is not the kind of loss of control that Dirk was anticipating, and it’s making him sweat a little, perspiration forming right along his hairline. What the fuck is fascinating Jake so much? And how the fuck is AR saying anything that’s more exciting than Jake’s actual boyfriend actually underneath him right now? No.

“Okay, give me the shades,” Dirk bursts out. Jake looks down at him in surprise.

“Is it not working for you?”

Jake’s fingers on his throat are hot. Jake’s inability to pay attention to him, not so much.

“No. Give me the shades. I want to see what you guys are talking about.”

“I don’t see any reason for that,” Jake says quickly. “Sorry, Dirk, I’ll pay more attention. He’s just—”

“Jake, give me the fucking shades.”

Jake hands them over, looking sheepish. After Dirk finishes skimming, keeping his face stony, he glances back at Jake.

“I guess that plan was not as efficacious as you’d hoped,” Jake says.

*

\-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began pestering golgothasTerror [GT] \--

TG: jjjjaaaaaek  
TG: jakejakeajke  
GT: Whoa hi there roxy!  
GT: What brings you to these parts? Of the internet i guess.   
GT: Cyberparts.  
GT: Agh no on second thought cyberparts reminds me a bit too strongly of certain robots id rather not think about right now.  
TG: omg  
TG: roboprobs in casa stridlish?  
TG: engder  
TG: strenglersh  
TG: frigglish  
GT: I wouldnt say robo probs exactly but he is certainly one sour cherry in the problem pie!  
TG: oh no :(  
TG: whats up?  
GT: Oh donkeyballs.  
GT: I shouldnt have brought this up im not at all positive that im meant to be blabbing about this.  
GT: Not that youre not one of my best friends and therefore theoretically privy to my every nag and complaint.  
GT: But you know how dirk is.  
TG: super private and touchy as fuck  
GT: Thats it.  
TG: k but  
TG: u brought it up friend  
TG: thats on u  
TG: now u gotta spill  
TG: its the rules  
TG: of life  
TG: n conversation  
GT: Huh.  
GT: Well.  
GT: I guess if strider comes over all strider about it  
GT: I can just explain that i couldnt very well violate the rules of life and conversation now could i?  
TG: xactly  
TG: u got it in 1  
TG: now spill jakey  
GT: Ok ok.  
GT: Its sort of a relief anyway id like to talk to someone about the whole sitcharooni.  
GT: But not a word of this gets back to dirk ok.  
GT: It sort of has to do with his um. Needs.  
GT: And mine i suppose but really were concentrating more on dirks needs at the mo.  
GT: Although mine are more than incidentally related since id rather like to get them fulfilled but he keeps insisting im doing it wrong.  
GT: Giving me the bums rush before we reach satisfaction station if you get my drift.  
TG: omfg  
TG: u should have said this was a sex prob  
TG: i am all about this jakey i kno all the sex  
TG: all sexes  
GT: Is that the case!  
TG: hell fuckin yeah  
TG: but u guys have been dating 4 like ten millenia  
TG: is this rly just coming up now??  
GT: No!!!!  
GT: But dirk has this notion he wants to try and its not going as swimmingly as i might like.  
GT: I think it was a bit tricksy for him to tell me about it in the first place and now that im not doing it right hes getting tetchy.  
GT: But honestly hes not given me much of a fighting chance. He tried to have his robot take charge of the scenario for petes sake.  
TG: lmfao ofc he did  
TG: k well jake  
TG: u dont have to tell me the gory details  
TG: altho if u want to my ears are open like the grand fuckin canyon over here  
TG: but heres my solid ROXY LALONDE ADVICE TRAIN comin in2 ur town  
TG: u gotta show him u can do it!!!  
TG: imagine how fuckin xcited hed be  
TG: if u just burst in the room all like  
TG: DIRK HELLO IVE COME 2 TAKE UR BREAHT AWAY  
TG: and u just pull out the  
TG: idk  
TG: whatever he wants  
TG: or ur dressed as the thing he wants or whatever this situation is  
TG: and u fukcing show him u can do it  
TG: the problem is probs that hes like  
TG: jake i need u 2 do this rn  
TG: or else you have severely disappointed me  
TG: and my strider loins r closed 4 business  
TG: and ino u jakey  
TG: itll be better if u wait untli yr totally set and PUMPED  
TG: and then do it on your time  
TG: dont let him strider u into it  
GT: Shit on a cracker rox thats some grade a advice you have there.  
GT: Whoever loaded the cargo on that advice train must be up for employee of the month at the advice factory!!  
GT: Youre dead right. I have to do this on my own terms.  
GT: In fact not that you could have known it but me refusing to let him badger me is probably conducive to the very goal at hand!  
GT: Id best be off ive got some preparing to do.  
TG: u can do it  
TG: i believe in u and yr sex prob solving skillz  
TG: let me know how it works ok  
GT: Absolutely.  
GT: I will blow up your phone with the thrilling conclusion!  
GT: Metaphorically.  
TG: xxxxxxxx

\--  golgothasTerror [GT] ceased pestering  tipsyGnostalgic [TG] \--

*

“Get down, you wily rapscallion.” 

Dirk shudders a little, probably from the cold on his bare back, definitely not because Jake is calling him dumb names. That’s dumb. Jake is dumb, and his strategy here seems to be to pretend that Dirk is a movie villain, because that’s the only thing that explains why Jake is treating him like he was caught red-handed robbing the wagon train.

“I said get down! Or did you not hear me? Aha, that was a ruse! I know perfectly well you heard me and I am demanding compliance with my wishes, if you so please, Strider!”

Dirk, propped up over Jake, starts sliding down his body.

In the very back of his mind—where the thoughts live that end up voiced by the AR—he can admit he’s been a little scared. After their last encounter, Jake got weird. Years of making situations worse had taught him that when he thought something was up with Jake, pushing was not the thing to do, so he’d swallowed back his nerves and waited for Jake to talk to him about it.

But instead of talking about it, Jake had burst into the room and asked if Dirk was prepared for “the adventure of a lifetime!!” And now here they are, and somehow even though Jake is acting like Dirk is the newcomer who just walked into the saloon, Dirk is poised over his dick, waiting to hear what he’s supposed to do next.

“Well, go on then,” Jake says. “You know what to do here, I imagine.”

Dirk just manages not to roll his eyes. “Make me,” he says. It’s less sexy banter and more of a prompt.

“Oh, right-o,” Jake says. “Okay, let’s see. Suck my meat torpedo, Dirk! Do it or you’ll be sorry.”

“What will you do,” Dirk prompts again, staring at the object in question. Jake’s half hard, and for all that this is ridiculous, it’s making the hairs on the back of Dirk’s neck stand up.

“I’ll kick up a right amount of fucking bother for you, see if I don’t!” Jake says. Dirk feels a rough hand thread through his hair, stop, grab, and twist. He inhales sharply, the sting making his eyes water. Fuck yes. Jake messing up his hair is irritating, and he’s eighty-seven percent sure Jake did it just because he now has an excuse to fuck up Dirk’s hair without Dirk getting pissy about it. Jake exploiting his weaknesses—it’s working, and that combined with Jake tugging as his scalp has him panting a little as he lowers his mouth down.

Jake makes a guttural noise. “Jehosophat’s knickers,” he groans from somewhere above Dirk’s head. Dirk ignores him and concentrates on the task at hand. He draws his tongue back into his mouth to wet it and licks Jake slowly. He mouths the head of Jake’s dick, and Jake makes an abrupt noise, his grip on Dirk’s hair tightening. Dirk waits for further instructions, but they don’t come, so he pulls back.

“Tell me what you want,” he says.

Jake groans, his eyes fluttering open. “I don’t see why this has to involve so much labor on my end,” he says. “You know how I like it, I just want your splendid mouth back on my tallywhacker, if you’d be so kind.”

“Jake,” Dirk says. It’s not like he demands a lot, but if Jake wants to give him this, he should know how Dirk wants it to go.

“Fine,” Jake says. “Suck me, Strider. Suck me like a whirlpool off the coast that makes your grandmother call you in from swimming—”

“ _Jake._ ”

“Fuck’s sake, Strider, I’m talking,” Jake says. “You’re always so blasted nitpicky! Oh Jake, just do whatever you want, but make sure it’s exactly what I want too!” He releases his grip in Dirk’s hair, and Dirk’s head sags from the lack of support. Dirk brushes his lips against the shaft of Jake’s dick again, and Jake’s throat convulses audibly.

“I’m waiting,” Dirk says.

It takes Jake a second to think of it, and then he says, “Shut up. Don’t talk.”

Okay, yes, yeah. Jake’s hand hovers over Dirk’s head for an instant, and then instead of putting it back in Dirk’s hair, he puts the flat of his palm against the back of Dirk’s skull and pushes down. Dirk’s mouth hits Jake’s dick, and it’s only due to his quick reflexes and presence of mind that he doesn’t let Jake’s bait and tackle come into contact with his teeth. He opens his mouth and takes in Jake’s cock, and Jake pushes harder, shoving up with his hips so that his dick almost hits the back of Dirk’s throat. Dirk breathes hard through his nose and forces his throat to relax, although his pulse is pounding harder than ever.

“You can still talk if it’s not okay, alright?” Jake says. Dirk tries to nod, but it’s hard with Jake’s dick in his mouth, so he gives Jake a thumbs up.

Jake shoves Dirk’s head down harder, and Dirk doesn’t have much choice but to suck. He pulls his head up a little, and Jake digs his thumbnail right into the skin behind Dirk’s ear. It genuinely surprises him, and his toes curl with shock and pain.

“Is that your best?” Jake says. “You—”

Dirk sucks him in deep again, trying to cut off what’s certainly going to be some dumb attempt at verbal humiliation that will ruin everything, but it doesn’t work.

“—shit—you daft woodpecker!”

Dirk moans around Jake’s dick, and rolls his tongue. Fuck, what is wrong with him? Why does he find this stupid shit hot?

“That’s right—you—oh _fuck_ ing shitbungler, _fuck_ —you’re naught but a boondoggle of a quiff, Strider—your attempts at—delivering oral satisfaction are well below sub-par!! Oh _Christ’s pajamas_ —”

God, Dirk wants to tell him to stop, and if it were another day he would have by now. Jake’s saying the stupidest shit, and it’s not something Dirk wants in his sex life, but—maybe the urge to tell Jake to stop is coming from the fact that his ears are burning and he’s mostly hard already. No matter how Jake it is, Jake is legitimately dirty-talking him, and the fact that he’s doing it so _stupidly_ just makes it even more embarrassing that Dirk’s this turned on. Dirk’s eyes flutter shut, and he focuses on the taste and warmth of Jake’s dick, lavishing it with the best of his attentions.

“Fuck yes, yes, lick me like a two-mouthed cat— _Dirk_ —”

Dirk groans with the frustration of keeping quiet, and Jake cups his head with both hands, digging his fingers into the back of Dirk’s skull.

“Dirk, I—okay, okay, _enough_.” Jake pulls his body sharply upward on the bed, shying away from Dirk’s mouth. Dirk pulls off, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, and looks up at him. Jake’s eyes are shining and his whole face is bright pink, his chest heaving.

“What now?” Dirk says.

Jake reaches down and pinches his nipple. Dirk cries out, startled, and his body involuntarily twitches, trying to curl around the sting.

Jake breathes in sharply. “Oh! I didn’t think that would actually—sorry, Dirk, you’re just so dadgum stoic, I was just—I was sort of teasing.” He lets go, and Dirk rubs his nipple, giving him an accusing look. “I’m sorry! Anyway, the message I meant to convey there was: I told you not to talk! And I don’t believe someone with a brain as flipping calculating as yours simply forgot. So.” He pats Dirk’s shoulder.

Dirk’s mouth twists with the effort of keeping it shut. He wants to say: Sweet _fuck_ , you can’t try to hurt me as a sexy punishment and then apologize because you succeeded. Jake’s so fucking bad at this. Or maybe better than Dirk expected, because Dirk’s actually a little overwhelmed.

“To answer your question,” Jake says. “I think I’d like to get on top of you and—you know.” His face is flushed pink. “Um, ride you. Don’t argue! Because you will not get a say. I am the big cheese running the show around here!!” Dirk rolls his eyes visibly, and Jake reaches up to pull a chunk of his hair. Dirk winces. It’s as much about Jake fucking up his hair as it is about the sting.

Instead of speaking, Dirk rolls over onto his back and gazes at Jake, giving him permission. Jake grins wide enough for Dirk to see his stupid teeth, and climbs on top of him.

“I rather like it this way,” Jake says. “Without your dastardly snipes every blooming second. Ha ha. I’m going to ride you like the Lone Ranger rode his trusty steed, Silver. Except I’m not going to call you Silver because do you know, Dirk, I don’t find horses all that sexually enthralling. That’s your purview, I’m afraid, buddy-o.”

Jesus. The effort of not saying anything has Dirk pressing his lips together so hard he’s certain they’re white. Instead of rolling his eyes, he widens them as much as possible to stare at Jake, hoping that this will be enough of a message to communicate his incredulity.

Jake doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he settles down on top of Dirk, his knees pressing into Dirk’s sides and his ass sitting just below Dirk’s dick. Dirk swallows. He is very, very into all this skin pressed against him.

“Is this all copacetic so far, Dirk?” Jake says.

Dirk stares at Jake for a moment, and then nods.

“Oh,” Jake says, pleased. “Good! I mean, I knew that. I don’t need your assistance.”

That’s not what domming fucking means, Dirk wants to say, but okay. Whatever. Jake’s doing his thing and it’s fine. It’s fine.

“How about this,” Jake says. “Before we get on with this palaver, let’s deal with your, you know. Your inclination towards suffering of the sensual sort. Your predilection for passionate punishment. Your appetite for erotic agony—”

“My pain kink,” Dirk says. He can’t fucking take it.

Jake frowns and swats his side, but says, “Yes, you big galumph. Your pain kink.” He takes in a deep breath, and rests his palms flat on Dirk’s chest. The air in the room is cool on Dirk’s naked skin, and he briefly wishes they were at least under a blanket or something.

“You don’t talk, okay,” Jake says. “I’m going to put some things to the ol’ trial-and-error and if it meets your standards you give me a thumbs up.” He hesitates. “If it’s wrong please tell me right away. Better to be a Mrs. Grundy than to let me ball it up.”

Whatever the fuck that means. But reading between the Jake lines, it sounds like Jake’s going to take this to a new level, and Dirk can feel his stomach prickling in anticipation. There’s cool air on the back of his neck and the aftertaste of Jake’s dick is in his mouth. Jake’s weight is heavy on top of him and he can’t really move his hips.

Jake moves his hand around to Dirk’s side, just under Dirk’s armpit, and Dirk shivers. He can’t help it; Jake’s touch is light, and it ups the anticipation even more.

“Okay,” Jake says. “Here goes.” He slowly scratches one fingernail from Dirk’s armpit down to his hip.

The feeling is more shock than real pain, but Dirk opens his mouth in a soundless whine, unsure if making noise counts as talking. Jake draws back and looks at him intently.

Dirk raises his hand in a thumbs up, and immediately Jake’s face relaxes. He scoots forward a little, his ass now officially making contact with Dirk’s dick. Dirk’s unsure if it was intentional, but he lets out a heavy breath at the touch, moving his hips a little to settle into it. It’s nice to have Jake paying so much attention to him, but he’s going to need that attention to drift south sometime soon.

“Alright, bucko, let’s raise the ante,” Jake says. This time he scrapes all five nails down Dirk’s side, finishing off with a vicious twist. Dirk’s back arches off the bed, and he screws his eyes up, savoring the sting and knowing there’ll be white lines scored into the skin. If he could talk maybe he’d make a joke about jungle cats, or this being a kind of scratch SBURB never envisioned, or—okay, he can’t talk, so this is stupid, shut the fuck up Dirk. He pushes his hips up minutely, hoping Jake won’t notice or tell him to stop.

“Good?” 

Dirk nods, opening his eyes and exhaling slowly. Jake beams down at him, completely pleased with himself. “Well then! Who’s the marionette master now!!”

Dirk keeps his mouth shut, and squirms a tiny bit underneath Jake. He’s really hard now, and as nice as this is, he’s about ready to get on with the stuff that’s going to get him off. Surely Jake can hurt him and ride him at the same time. He’s a multitasker.

“Okay, bub,” Jake says, “try this on for size.” He leans down and bites hard right on the tight skin above Dirk’s collarbone. Dirk gasps, and the phrase “ _fuck_ me” falls out of his mouth before he can figure out if it’s a swear or a command. The pain peaks, and he squints up at Jake as he comes down from it, panting slightly.

“I already said I wasn’t going to, you daft egg,” Jake says, tugging on his earlobe in a move that’s definitely more affection than sexy punishment. Dirk throws his arm over his eyes and groans again, softer. His dick is so hard it fucking hurts. “But we can speed matters up if that’s what peels your onion.”

Jake climbs off him, and returns a second later with lube and a condom from the nightstand drawer.

“Alrighty,” he says, “let’s get this wagon train on the road.” Dirk can’t help himself from making a frustrated noise. This is straight-up humiliating, lying here with his dick out and being forced to listen to Jake make their sex sound like the stupidest thing in the world while he’s forbidden from speaking.

And then Jake grabs his dick to roll on the condom and the frustrated noise turns into something like a whimper that he definitely would not have made if he weren’t thrown off guard by how dumb this whole thing is. Jake puts the condom on him, and then feels up his dick with a palmful of lube. This is the most touching Dirk’s gotten so far. He tries not to pant.

“Haha, goodness, you’re in a tizzy,” Jake says. They have sex often enough that Jake doesn’t really need any prep. He positions himself above Dirk and starts to work himself down, going slowly to let himself adjust.

Dirk squeezes his eyes shut, just trying not to come yet. Almost nothing Jake has done is anything Dirk would characterize as effective sexual domination, and yet Dirk feels effectively dominated. It’s a paradox. The Jake paradox, already familiar to Dirk from years of questioning why this kid is so fucking attractive to him. It shouldn’t be surprising by now.

He opens his eyes so he can see Jake’s face, because it’s a part of this that he’s always loved without question. Jake’s eyes are closed as well, and his head is down, like he’s focusing all his concentration on the feeling of Dirk’s dick. That’s one thing about Jake that makes him a great partner: he is consummately easy to read.

Impatient, Dirk starts to thrust his hips up, anxious to get some real friction going. Jake opens his eyes and shakes his head. “Such a bossy Betty,” he says, but he helps out by starting to move, huffing out a long breath. “Christ, Dirk,” he moans, “this is so—this is just the cat’s whistle—”

“Stop it,” Dirk groans, snapping his hips up again and letting his head fall back. Fuck, fuck, this is everything he’s ever wanted.

“No,” Jake says, his chest heaving. “And you’re not supposed to talk! The more you talk the more I talk. Why, Strider, you’re some kind of—oh _Lord_ —hotsy-totsy sheik who certainly knows how to use his dingus—like to take you into my petting pantry you dashing bird—”

“Fuuuuck,” Dirk gets out. He grabs Jake’s hips so he can pull him down harder, no longer caring about who’s supposed to be dominating who when he just wants to get off right now. Jake is often vocal, which is usually amazing, but he’s usually not so articulate and Dirk can’t tell if it’s the dumb old-timey talk that’s turning him on or if it’s the embarrassment over the fact that it’s not turning him off. Jake’s moved his hand down to jerk himself off as he rides Dirk, and his speed is increasing as he gets more and more incoherent.

“Okay,” Jake says, “okay, alright Dirk, let’s—let’s get a wiggle on here—I’m—”

“I don’t even know what that means,” Dirk gasps out. He also doesn’t need the prompting. He’s already teetering on the edge, and it only takes a couple more hurried thrusts before he’s collapsing back on the bed and coming, still feeling the sting of Jake’s nails down his side, still feeling like he’s not supposed to be talking. He takes his hands from Jake’s hips and presses them over his face, still reluctant to let Jake see what this does to him even after all this time.

When he opens his eyes, Jake’s looking down at him with a look of wonder on his face, like Dirk is a butterfly that’s just landed on his finger. “I did it,” he says. “I did it! I got you off with my domination!”

Dirk makes a soft noise. “Yeah,” he says. “You did it.”

He reaches up and covers Jake’s hand with his own, letting Jake thrust his hips until he tenses up and comes, his hands shaking.

Afterwards, Jake flops down beside him and throws an arm over Dirk’s chest. Jake’s hips are all sticky, and Dirk knows he’s not going to be able to stand lying here for long without getting up and dragging Jake into the shower, but after Jake put so much effort into doing exactly what Dirk wanted, he can give him this.

“And you thought I couldn’t do it,” Jake says happily. “I had you wriggling under my thumb. Wrapped around my proverbial little finger.”

“Yeah,” Dirk says, too blissed out and charmed to be annoyed at the implication that he was at all out of control. He buries a hand—the clean one—in Jake’s hair and ruffles it. “Thanks, Jake.”

“I have to tell Roxy,” Jake continues.

“No,” Dirk says. “No Roxy.”

“Okay,” Jake agrees. He presses himself closer to Dirk, smearing more of the stickiness across Dirk’s hip. Dirk ignores the gross feeling and closes his eyes, relaxing into the postorgasmic sensation.

“That was good,” he says slowly. It was. It wasn’t anything he would ever want anyone else to know he’d participated in, but it was really good.

“I’m chuffed,” Jake says. Dirk groans and buries his face against Jake’s shoulder.

“I think we should have more times when you’re not allowed to talk,” Jake adds. “Meal times. Movie nights.”

“Whatever, Jake.” Dirk sits up. “Come on, let’s shower.”

“Alright,” Jake says. “Next time, we get to put Avatar on the laptop next to the bed while we do it. You owe me.”

Dirk shrugs. Not like his relationship can get any more embarrassing at this point. “Sure,” he says. “We can do that.” He crawls out of bed, eyeing the shades on the nightstand. AR doesn’t get to hear about any of this. “C’mon,” he says, and holds out a hand to get Jake out of bed.

Jake grabs it. “And I get to call you Neytiri.”

“Sure.”

“And you have to call me Jake. Haha.”

“Okay.” Jake scrambles out of bed, and lets Dirk lead him into the bathroom.

It’s fucked up to get off to someone calling you hotsy-totsy. Maybe more fucked up than the domination kink in the first place. Maybe Jake is actually the kinkiest person Dirk’s ever met. Hypothesis needs more data, he thinks, turning on the water.


End file.
